


how many jons does it take to fix a timeline

by CalicoCats



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Time Travel Fix-It, kind of like. You’ll see what I mean, like. the opposite of angst but I don’t think it counts as fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:35:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26981491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalicoCats/pseuds/CalicoCats
Summary: Jonathan Sims goes back in time to prevent an awful future, but his past self seems to be doing fine on his own.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 91





	how many jons does it take to fix a timeline

**Author's Note:**

> Future jon is just referred to as jon, past jon referred to either as past jon or jonathan.

Jon sat across from his past self, who was currently trying to click off the dozen tape recorders and counting that had appeared in the last few minutes. “Stay still you nosy little bastards,” his past self said, growing frustrated. They kept turning themselves back on, their whirring sounding more impatient with each attempt to keep them from listening in. His past self— Jonathan?— gave up after even more tapes appeared on top of the old ones, resigned to his fate. The tapes calmed down to a gentle rumbling static.

Jon had arrived in the past later than he’d planned. Jonathan already had scars from Prentiss’s worms, so they’d already lost Sasha... This Jonathan, who’d likely just learned of Gertrude’s murder and what it might mean for him, would be hard to convince of, well. Literally anything that happened in the future. Jon could already feel a headache coming in.

“Are you here to make a statement?” Jonathan asked, setting a stack of papers aside to make room for the spontaneously appearing tape recorders. 

“Of sorts,” Jon said. _ Here it goes _ , he thought. “I’m— you. From the future, one where things ended badly. I want to keep this world from the same fate.”

Jonathan just looked exasperated. He took a moment to check the time on his phone, then made eye contact with his future self. “Right,” Jonathan said, then sighed. “I believe you.”

“What.”

“I believe you. Thank you for the offer, but we are doing just fine as is. Door’s right behind you,” Jonathan gestured to the exit, and a tape recorder appeared on his head. It was balancing on it surprisingly well.

Jon sat there bewildered. “You don’t care that I’m from the future? You’re not at all curious?”

Another tape landed on Jonathan’s head, “Not really, no.”

This was going all wrong, and Jon scrambled for words. “You can’t— that isn’t how this is supposed to go? Do you— you know this place is evil, right?”

“I’m well aware. If you don’t have anything else to tell me—“

“And you’re just okay with that. With this place being evil.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Of course not. But with Elias gone it’s really not that big of a concern.”

“ _ What do you mean Elias is gone? _ ” Jon asked, and realized too late he’d let his compulsion slip through.

“We threw him into the buried,” Jonathan replied all too quickly. 

“You. You threw him into the buried.”

Jonathan shrugged. “He was what, 60? And he can only really show your worst fears if he focuses on you specifically. Couldn’t fight all of us at once.”

“So you, what, grabbed him and threw him in? Just like that?” Jon... Jon really needed a nap right now.

“You’d be surprised what you can do with teamwork,” Jonathan replied with a fond smile, like throwing his boss into the embodiment of the crushing weight of being alive was a fun group bonding exercise. For the Magnus Institute it probably was. “Now, if that will be all—“

“No, no, how do — how do you know any of this!” Jon yelled, awfully confused for an avatar who reveled in finding secrets. “How did— what’s going on? You’ve— you’ve obviously met Prentiss already, but you don’t have the scar from Daisy, and you know about Elias?” He leaned in over the desk. “ _Who are you?_ ”

“I’m you,” Jonathan stated absently, preoccupied with balancing the three tapes on his head. He picked up a paper he’d moved aside to make room for the tapes. “I, ah, forgot to ask earlier, could you sign this?”

Jon hesitantly took the paper from his past self. It was a sign-in sheet, except all the names were some variation of Jonathan Sims. Same handwriting for the most part, occasionally different spelling (John? John???), and a different last name here and there. Jon would have to remember to bring up the last name Blackwood-Sims to Martin. 

Jonathan’s voice brought him back to the present matter. “That’s the sign-in sheet for any extra-dimensional Jonathan Sims, and occasionally any Strangers who think it’d be funny to pull a prank on me. Just sign your name, a nickname, and date traveled back from. If you can’t remember, ‘sometime during the apocalypse’ also works. There’s other sheets for different people in case Martin or someone else came with you.”

“So you’ve... had people time travel here before?” Jon asked, signing his name using a chewed up ball point pen.

“You’re the fifth me from the future this week,” Jonathan admitted, taking back the paper from Jon. “There’s a dart board in Artifact Storage that lures in the supernatural, including alternate selves, apparently. It can’t be burned or removed from the wall, we’ve tried. It’s been helpful in some ways. The first future Jon gave us the info we needed to keep Sasha alive.”

“But if Sasha’s— the worms?” Jon said, gesturing to his own scars.

“Have you tried staring a writhing mass of worms in place.” 

“I—“ Jon was too busy running, really, “I suppose not.” 

“Right. We’re still trapped here,” Jonathan tapped his desk, “But since we dealt with Elias most of London’s left us alone. Whether out of fear or gratitude, I’m not entirely sure.”

“Oh. Congratulations?”

“Thank you,” Jonathan stood up, and the five tapes stacked on his head didn’t waver. He tentatively removed them and set them on his desk. “Now, if that’s really all you needed?”

“Is— are your assistants alright?” Jon asked, wringing his hands together.

Jonathan’s expression softened, “They’re fine, just taking the day off.”

“Oh.” For maybe the first time since the apocalypse began, Jon allowed himself to relax. “I’m glad. I... don’t suppose you have any idea about what I could do next?”

Jonathan paused for a moment, then laughed, “get out of these archives, for one.”

With both Archivists gone and the office’s door closed, the tapes clicked off.

**Author's Note:**

> don’t know if this is ooc but I could not get this idea out of my head. past jon is just sick of people showing up and having to break the bad news that everything’s pretty ok actually


End file.
